


A Day in the Sun

by OhNoMyBreadsticks



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, Except Implied Asher/Grant if You Squint, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy Ending, Picnics, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Referenced Canon Angst, Singing, no ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoMyBreadsticks/pseuds/OhNoMyBreadsticks
Summary: Red spends a day preparing for an outing with all of her friends, both new and old. Out here in the country, everyone is welcome.Post-Canon 'what if' where everyone lives happily in the country together, working out their differences and enjoying peace.
Relationships: Red & Subject | The Boxer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	A Day in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [That Hoopy Frood (That_Hoopy_Frood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Hoopy_Frood/gifts).



> This is a gift for That Hoopy Frood for the Super Giant Games Secret Santa Event! You asked for anything sfw related to transistor and mentioned you liked Red and Royce so...my brain went a little wild with the soft possibilities! I love how complex and interesting all the characters in Transistor are, so I don't think it's all that much of a stretch to imagine them working their differences out together in the Country. Mostly I just wanted to write some soft post-canon stuff XD I hope you enjoy it Hoopy! 
> 
> My angel of a friend [thislittlekumquat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislittlekumquat/pseuds/thislittlekumquat) beta-ed this whole thing while knowing nothing about Transistor, so she deserves an extra round of applause for this one!!!

Red wakes to the sound of birdsong floating in through the window she left open the night before. It’s not loud enough to have woken her up on its own, but the sun has also decided to join in on the effort - one single beam sliding across her eyes and forcing her to turn her head with a soft groan. She takes the time to revel in the feeling of her warm bed for a few moments before properly opening her eyes. The blanket is soft against her skin, just enough to keep away the chill that settles when night comes, the first breaths of fall ghosting through the air. Rolling onto her back, Red stretches and pushes the blanket aside, rubbing her eyes once before finally cracking them open.

The room is bathed in brilliant golden light, as if the sun is trying to make up for the way her home is no longer a gilded palace as it was back in Cloudbank. There is no glitter or shine here, just the rich deep tones of wood and plaster, and the brilliant colors of her many posters hung upon the wall. Vanity, perhaps, but Red has always enjoyed the promotional materials made for her concerts. They reminded her that other people could hear her voice, and enjoy the words that flowed from her lips and out into the empty air. Some days, that was an important reminder. Today, she simply smiles at the thought of what today will bring, and sits up, bare feet touching down on the warm wood floor. 

Her hair is a mess, as usual, the unruly red curls rioting around her face like a fireworks display. Red tuts at it in the mirror as she undoes the worst of the mess, and pulls it back out of her eyes. Later, she will let her hair down and enjoy the feeling of the breeze rushing through it. For now, though, she has work to do. Her hands brush across the assortment of furs and silks she’s pushed to one side in her closet. If she digs far enough back, she knows that her favorite yellow dress is still there, rips and all. It never felt right to have it patched back up, and it certainly felt like a crime to throw it out. Almost like throwing away a part of herself. She is made of all the things that have tried to tear her apart, and she is tattered and stained just like the brilliant canary silk.

Instead of indulging in the nostalgia of dressing in her concert finery, Red instead slips into a light cream shift dress, the fabric light and flowing and the sleeves easy to roll up. With the help of an apron she hopes to avoid getting it dirty before it’s even time to leave the house. Downstairs, breakfast is a slightly quicker affair than usual, Red sipping at her morning coffee while setting out the ingredients for her scones on the counter. The window is open and the light breeze that floats in helps offset the warmth from the oven as it heats up. It feels good, she thinks, to work with her hands at a task that will create something. It’s a simple process, really, to mix and stir and taste, but she much prefers it to the complexities of strategizing how to take a life.

Red is humming, bits and pieces of melodies intertwining and weaving in the air around her. She had never really thought about singing just for herself, until she couldn’t any more. Now, she is surrounded by music more often than not. Why would she allow the silence to win? The birds seem to agree, their chirping and fluttering echoing back from outside in their own form of a melody. She’s shaping the scones into their pleasant little shapes, hands coated in flour and slightly sticky from the dough, when she hears the front door open. Red frowns as she looks up from her work - Auden isn’t due to arrive for another hour or so, and she isn’t yet ready to head out.

But instead it’s Royce who slinks into the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black slacks, white shirt ironed to crisp perfection. He looks almost too neat to belong here, in Red’s messy little space, with flour covering her apron and staining one cheekbone. She can see him fidgeting inside his pockets, fingers itching to pull out something that isn’t there any more. He’s given up smoking, after all, at the urging of all his friends. If not for his own sake - Royce has never been very good at caring about that, after all - then for all of theirs. The smell of smoke no longer seeps into the space around him, announcing his presence in a waft of foul air. Red is happy for him, but she can see the way he misses the crutch when he’s nervous.

Red smiles at Royce, and some of the tension falls out of his shoulders. He’s welcome here.

“Asher kicked me out of the house,” Royce announces by way of explanation, although Red would never ask for one. She knows he feels as if he owes everyone so many of those. A raised eyebrow prompts him to sigh and continue, “Apparently making a detailed itinerary for today’s outing and then attempting to force the rest of the house into following it minute by minute isn’t ‘helpful’.” The air quotes force his hands out of his pockets, and Red can’t help but giggle at the petulant roll of his eyes. Royce has never been good at letting other people take control, and she can only imagine the annoyance of having to live with that every day. But they love him, the others, and Red knows how love can temper the edges of a person, make the jagged parts hurt less when they catch on your own skin.

“I could use another set of hands,” Red offers, gesturing to the half filled baking tray and the dough she still has left to shape. It’s almost like she can  _ see _ the gears whirring in Royce’s head as he takes in the situation and weighs the pros and cons. He isn’t usually the type to get his hands dirty, at least not with something in the kitchen. She’s peeked into his little study at the big house once, and seen the mess of mechanical parts strewn about, stained with oil and paint. Definitely a place where someone might get messy. But Red doesn’t think she’s ever seen Royce with more than a hair out of place here. Perhaps he still needs to feel as if he’s in control, even now. Perhaps that’s the reminder  _ he  _ needs some days.

“I’ll supervise,” Royce decides, leaning on the counter and looking up at Red with those curious green eyes. 

Red laughs, shaking her head and feeling a stray curl escape the hair tie. “No can do, Royce. Everyone pitches in in this house,” she insists, and presses a clean spoon into his hand. It only takes a few tries for him to get the hang of scooping out the correct amount of dough, and before long he’s tentatively holding out his hands for a dusting of flour so he can attempt the shape himself. And well, if he tries to correct the ones Red did earlier so they’re more symmetrical, she forgives him. Delicate, diligent fingers pinch and shape the dough until the full tray can be slipped carefully into the oven. 

They wash up, and Red makes another pot of coffee so Royce can drink what’s probably his third cup of the day. Sitting down at her little worn dining table, they sit and talk about everything and nothing, Red asking questions about the rest of the Camerata as if she isn’t going to see them in like an hour, and Royce asking if she’s ever going to get that cat she always talks about. It’s comfortable, easy. No pretense, no attempts to establish a winner for the conversation, or even a real end destination. Red is just getting up to pull the scones out of the oven when the front door opens again, and this time it’s Auden who walks in.

It feels nice, to know that the locks on the door of her Cloudbank apartment are a thing of the past. Auden is always welcome here.

“Something smells incredible in here!” Auden announces, a grin splitting his face as he catches sight of the tray of scones in Red’s hands. Royce deftly slaps his hand away when he reaches for one, and the sound of Auden’s laughter fills the room. 

He’s always had a voice that fills any space he’s in, and it makes Red’s chest feel warm with hope. 

“Can’t share, Royce?” Auden teases, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Royce pulls a face, obviously not wanting to volunteer why he had reached out, but eventually mutters a very petulant, “You’re going to burn yourself if you don’t wait.” Red turns her back on the boys to set the tray on the counter, and also to hide her smile. They’re all getting to see the little flashes of kindness Royce had so carefully buried for so many years.

Red hums along with the pace of Auden teasing Royce behind her, the back and forth of their voices a soothing melody. Before any other questing hands can attempt a steal, the scones are packed up and deposited into Red’s little wicker basket. Her offering for the day finished, she turns back around and leans back against the counter. Auden has stolen her half-finished cup of coffee, which isn’t surprising at all. He’ll eat anything within arm’s reach, as the group has found out. He claims it’s a part of his boxer’s metabolism, but they all know that doesn’t count at all any more. It’s been so long since his hands were bandaged, and Red delights in watching the way his skin slowly heals and regains its natural glow. The scars are there, yes, but who here doesn’t have those?

“You ready to go, Red?” Auden asks, breaking Red out of her thoughts. He was always watching, noticing the little details even when it seemed as if he were engrossed in conversation. 

“Yeah, can you go grab the record player?” she asks, gesturing towards the living room. She could carry it herself, true, but she doesn’t see the point in bothering. She’s done enough heavy lifting to last a lifetime. Auden jovially saunters over to collect it, Royce trailing after him curiously. When they return to the kitchen, his arms are full of records, Auden also clearly subscribing to the ‘everyone pitches in’ mentality.

Spoils in hand, the three of them leave Red’s house and head to the meeting spot. Red only barely remembers to take off her apron before they leave, throwing it over a chair before she hurries to catch up with the boys. It will be there when she comes back, and she can fuss over the spilled flour then. For now, she revels in the freedom of simply carrying a small wicker hamper and letting the bright sun soak into her skin. She’s acquired a fair amount of strange tan lines from her dresses lately, but no amount of teasing from Royce and Sybil will make her stay inside. It’s too beautiful here, and she has a lot of life to live. 

As they approach the field, Red spots the bright white of Sybil’s parasol, and she waves to the three figures waiting for them. Asher waves back, but Grant is too busy fussing at the picnic blanket, weighing it down with various dishes so that the tricky summer breeze doesn’t tug the corners up. An enthusiastic cheer goes up once the two groups become one though, everyone chattering happily and asking a thousand questions of each other. Auden sets the record player down on the final loose edge of the blanket, and Royce flops down gracelessly next to it. Sybil notices that Red is still covered in flour, and has her bend down so she can delicately wipe it away with her handkerchief.

In this space, everyone is welcome.

They all sit down to eat, and Red loads her plate with all the different delicacies they’ve prepared. Asher is the best cook, by far, but Grant makes a mean sandwich, they all agree. The conversation flows back and forth just as the different dishes are passed, everyone eating and drinking their fill. Once the meal is finished, the desserts come out, Sybil preening over the delicate little petit fours she’s crafted. But Red can’t stop laughing at the way Auden insists on eating them in one bite, much to Sybil’s horror. 

“You always did have a big mouth, at least now you’re putting it to good use,” Grant quips, and now Auden is laughing too, crumbs flying out of his mouth despite his best efforts.

At some point, they turn the record player on, and let the music harmonize with the rustle of the surrounding wheat fields. Royce sneaks in one of Red’s albums, and she’s too satisfied with the afternoon to truly protest. She always gets overruled, anyways, the others insisting that they love her singing too much to give up the pleasure of listening to it just because they have the ‘real deal’ right with them. It used to bother her more, but Red has gotten used to the sound of her own voice issuing out of a mechanical throat. She lays back on the blanket and looks up at the sky, letting the chatter of the others blur and blend together with the music.

_ Seconds march into the past _

_ The moments pass _

_ And just like that they're gone _

Days like today seem to stretch forever, but Red can see the passage of time in the clouds above her head. There will be other days like today, and she finds that the terror of losing this moment has now been replaced with the joy of finding the next moment of happiness.

_ We are paper boats floating on a stream _

_ And it would seem _

_ We'll never be apart _

Red turns her head slightly as she feels the touch of a gentle hand - Sybil has finally pulled the hair tie out of Red’s curls, letting them pool freely like a halo on the blanket. Red smiles up at her in thanks, and watches as Sybil winks before slyly shooting the hair tie over the collection of picnic baskets to smack Auden’s shoulder. His responding yelp startles Asher from where he’s curled up against Grant’s side. Red simply chuckles and turns her gaze back up to the sky.

_ Like it's written in the stars _

_ We can run, but we can't hide _

Red took her shoes off when they all sat down, and she digs her toes into the scratchy wool of the picnic blanket. It’s been so long since they were blistered, since she had to run until her feet were aching and sore beneath her.

_ Try _

It’s getting difficult to keep her eyes open, the brilliant blue of the sky suddenly too bright. The sound of laughter echoes around her, as if to say - this is safe. This is forever. This is home. 

Red closes her eyes and lets herself drift off to sleep. Her friends will wake her when it’s time to go home, Auden’s gentle hand on her shoulder or Royce’s fingers tapping softly at her palm. For now, Red allows herself to simply exist, here in this perfect moment among the perfect flow of time.

_ I will always, always find you _

_ I will always _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this very soft offering! This was a BLAST to write, who knows, maybe I'll dabble some more in SGG fic! 
> 
> As always, I cherish any and all kudos and comments <3 I’m available on [tumblr](https://ohnomybreadsticks.tumblr.com/) if you ever feel like chatting or reading some of my lil drabbles, I’d love to see you there <3 Fair warning, it's all DBH right now, but SGG fans are more than welcome <3 <3


End file.
